


you're the moon, my blue lagoon, my favorite tune

by Fxckxxp



Category: SKAM (Italy)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, POV Martino Rametta, Post-Canon, Songfic, Swimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 13:53:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22438258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fxckxxp/pseuds/Fxckxxp
Summary: Marti and Nico take a midnight swim off the dock in Vernazza, and every day Marti loves him more and more.
Relationships: Niccolò Fares/Martino Rametta
Comments: 20
Kudos: 115





	you're the moon, my blue lagoon, my favorite tune

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired a lot by the song [Swimming In The Moonlight](https://youtu.be/8QEJZ25hK3w) by Bad Suns (do yourself a favor and listen) and a little by the quote “perhaps one did not want to be loved so much as to be understood” by George Orwell.

They go slowly as to not make so much noise on the creaky bed.

The walls are thin, the ceilings low. The cool tile floor under Marti’s bare feet is probably original to the place. He feels his toes curl hard against it, a reaction to keep the noise inside his chest from spilling out around a half-moaned expletive.

It’s not one of the buildings that have had their interiors renovated for tourists who can afford to blow the equivalent of Marti’s savings account in one weekend. It’s old, very old. Owned by Nico’s family, apparently, for generations. An end of summer vacation ritual for a long weekend. But the balcony overlooks the harbor of Vernazza, downstairs is an eons-old pizzeria that his southern blood boils in betrayal for enjoying so much, and Marti will be damned if the place lacks any charm.

Nico thinks the whole thing is romantic. The tiny village and the antique furniture and the lace curtains and the sea right outside their window. (Which is closed now, because Marti knows everyone else’s is open.)

So Nico, pent up from four days of nothing but pure romanticism, apparently can’t take it any longer and waited until every rustle from between the paper-thin walls came to a complete standstill, tugged Marti over on top of him, and whispered _I want you to fuck me_ with the most devilish smile in his ear before biting the lobe.

He hasn’t cut his hair all summer — the saltwater and the humid air has made it impossibly curly. If Marti put his nose to it, the scent of the sea still lingers past amber shampoo. His shoulders are so tan they’re darker than Marti’s freckles. Face too. It makes his teeth look fatally white when he smiles. The moonlight through the curtains speckles him in dabbled blue. Marti wants to scream. Or melt. The desire to snuff it with a kiss contradictory. So how on earth could he say no? Even when he was about to ask the same of Nico.

That brings them to now: Marti standing. Nico laying on his back on the bed, legs open, hard, a sight to behold with one of his feet on Marti’s shoulder. It slips back when Marti leans in, down — knee bent over it now. 

Marti just has to kiss him. The new angle makes Nico’s closed eyes wince shut tighter, then his whole face relaxes and his lip curls up over his canine to reveal it, white white white in the dark. 

_“Holy —”_ he gasps over Marti’s mouth, deep and low and unfinished. 

Marti likes that he can’t even put two words together. The one goes right down his throat and makes him feel, no pun intended, divine.

Marti’s hand, inching down Nico’s stomach to touch him, is stopped by Nico pinning it to his hip. A _not yet._ An _I don’t want to come yet._ An _I want this to last forever, but since it can’t, as long as humanly possible._ So Marti has to stop himself inside Nico to hold off. Nico squirms around him at the lack of movement. It makes Marti groan.

“You okay?”

“Yes,” Marti breathes a laugh, mostly at himself. “Just close.”

Nico nudges Marti’s cheek with his nose. “Keep kissing me.”

He does. Lips met half-open. Nico’s tongue on his bottom one. Sweet and dirty. Hands coming up to hold Marti’s face before folding around his neck.

Marti feels Nico’s knee pinch around his shoulder, his toes curl into his back. Other leg coming to hook around his hip so all of him is wrapped around Marti completely. Pushing him farther in and keeping him there while they kiss.

It’s a lot. Marti imagines what Nico feels like — filled up with him, still. Feeling every pulse and writhe and change in breath, posture, heartbeat in that stillness. It turns him on more than he wants, the stalling supposed to be helping him calm down.

Nico, legs like mainstays around Marti to keep him from moving, pushes his hips further — Marti impossibly deep in him. He breaks off, his head drops forward onto Nico’s chest, sweaty forehead on sweaty sternum. He feels Nico’s quick heartbeat on his temple, hears his lungs suck in a sharp breath.

Nico moves himself in a slow circle, impatient. Marti doesn’t know why they don’t do this more often, deciding his favorite thing in the world is to watch Nico desperately want to fall apart under him.

Nico’s hold loosens, either an _are you ready now?_ or an _I need you now_ or probably both. Marti props himself back up, one hand fisting the sheets under Nico’s armpit and the other holding his face. The slide out is more than he can handle, the slide back in has his stomach tightening. He does it again, again. Not sure if going slower each time is helping him hold on.

Nico reaches between them, down to himself. Marti can’t look. But it’s so quiet he hears Nico swallow, and just the image of his face, dropped open, makes Marti picture it anyway.

Nico comes with his face nosing into Marti’s palm. Thumb on chin, smoothing in a small circle. Eyes closed and face twisted over an open mouth that can’t help but let out a tiny, high, soft noise that was so suppressed Marti loses it. 

He held off for as long as he could — Nico didn’t make it easy.

Nico kisses the fat part of his palm right under his thumb at the peak of it, and Nico asked him to fuck him but it always, always, always turns into so much more than that.

Marti thinks they would have gone slowly anyway.

• • •

“Let’s go.”

Marti, boneless and completely naked, spreadeagle and sinking into the mattress on his back, is watching Nico hop into his damp swim trunks which were strewn across a chair in the corner.

He goes to open the window and Marti says, “not yet.” He pats the sheets beside him.

The room still smells like them and he doesn’t mind being hot. He wishes they were still cuddling, wrapped up in the afterglow for another minute. He needs that minute. And then he’ll go with Nico.

It’s usually like this. Marti could fall asleep in a second if he closed his eyes and Nico is energized by all the love.

He’s been wondering why, of all places, they came to Vernazza. Why Nico’s family has this little place. They seem to have the vacation down to a science — favorite spots, neighbors, other vacationers. Favorite dinners and reserved tables. It’s like a ritual.

Marti isn’t complaining. He’s never been to Vernazza, barely knew how to say yes when Nico asked if he’d come along.

Of course the best time is now: summer. When the water is ripe from the sun and the surrounding mountains are lush and the sky is blue blue blue. 

But it’s also crawling with tourists, even if they planned to come at the tail end of it, after school’s started and vacations have tapered off.

But it makes sense. Marti’s noticed Nico’s family — his parents especially — thrive in this kind of atmosphere. They love to be surrounded by people, by beauty, by old decadence not equivalent with old money but with an old, slow way of life. They like chatting with people from far away places, they like being in the heart of action. They stay up late, out, energy charged by people and lights and music and wine.

Not always with an eye out for Nico, who Marti notices fade away sometimes between it all. Today was especially like that, with bouts of reclusiveness and pulling Marti close. Overwhelmed. At the brink of something that came out, to Marti’s relief, healthy in bed. He knows his body is an anchor for Nico, he can feel it every time they touch each other.

He’ll never forget: _Others try to talk, but you don’t care about what they’re saying, and in the end your shut yourself off. You isolate yourself. I don’t know, maybe you’re at a party and there are fifty people there, and you’re just alone with your brain. You freak out. Sometimes it’s like you can’t breathe._

And he’ll never forget that he’d take Marti with him to the end of the world. The last two. And while the whole notion is scary, when Nico wants to dive into that fantasy, Marti goes along gladly. They’ve done it enough times to skip down the comforting juncture of that dream.

He knows that’s what Nico wants. Just to be _alone_ with him. It’s all he ever really wants. But not shut in the four walls of a bedroom, not closed off to the rest of the world because Nico _wants_ to see the world and he wants the world to see _him_ right back. Marti knows he does.

He gets his extra minute of Nico close to him — pulled to his chest on the bed. His saltwater hair in his nose. His smooth tan shoulders under his fingers. His big white smile an inch away from his own. Blinding.

And then he goes. He’ll never not go.

They leave the building and travel down to the concrete dock barefoot and shirtless. The moon is so full and so bright everything is clear, clearer after their eyes adjust. Nico jumps into the water with a _whoop!_ right away, breaking the surface when he comes back up for air by shaking his head like a wet dog. He treads the water and looks at Marti expectantly.

Marti has just one thought, seeing his beaming white smile emerge, wiping the water away from his eyes, pushing his dark hair back off his forehead: _you have no clue how gorgeous you are._

In less haste, he sits on the dock — feet in the water — before slowly lowering himself down. Nico swims over to him, and they both hang their elbows on the concrete and kick slowly to keep afloat.

The sea is still sun-warm, chillier in the deep by their ankles. No one is out, maybe a few smoking the last cigarette of a late night in their doorways, but a glance up at all the colorful buildings – red and pink and yellow and blue — reveals some people still have their lights on. Little dots in the dark.

They don’t speak for a long time. Just taking in the sleeping town, gloating in their solitude like the place is theirs. Marti knows Nico probably thinks it is. At least for now.

“How are you feeling?” Marti finally asks. He feels safe enough to reach over and tuck a wet curl behind Nico’s ear.

Who smiles, looking at Marti in his peripherals. “So much better now.” It sounds relieved. And thankful. Reset.

In a dash, he kicks off the dock and dives below the water. His laugh echoes before it’s swallowed by the sea. Marti goes after him, one more laugh drowning under it.

Another thought: _I couldn’t love you more if I tried._

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed 💛 talk to me on [tumblr!](https://bisexualcaravaggio.tumblr.com/)


End file.
